


What Kind Of Strange Love

by TheForgottenDreams



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Combeferre and Courfeyrac don't know they're in love, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, Cosette gets drunk easily, Enjolras is beautiful and he knows it, Eventual Relationships, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Rock Band AU, They're all music acts, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5198753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, R, you remember Éponine, right?” Jehan asked. They were in their shared hotel room, after having performed on some other show. Grantaire watching the television whilst Jehan watched some videos on his IPad, both lounging on their beds. </p><p>“Of course.” Grantaire replied, thinking back to the times she used to live with him and Jehan before moving into an apartment with someone else.</p><p>“She’s in the group that came second in The X-Factor, they mentioned us in this interview.” </p><p>“I didn’t even know she was in a band, but its good they got that far. Second always does better than first anyway.” </p><p>“Yeah, do you not remember? She was in a bad mood because the band’s leader blackmailed her into joining. Judging by the blank look on your face that’s a no. Anyway, just watch the interview.” Jehan told him.</p><p>- All of The Barricaders are in bands or are singers as they battle with their feelings as well as the media and Ruthless Gossip Chatshow Queens. Uses Twitter bits -</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kind Of Strange Love

**Author's Note:**

> Can anyone help me add the tweets to this story please? I'm not sure how to do it. I'll be eternally grateful

“Hey, R, you remember Éponine, right?” Jehan asked. They were in their shared hotel room, after having performed on some other show. Grantaire watching the television whilst Jehan watched some videos on his IPad, both lounging on their beds.

“Of course.” Grantaire replied, thinking back to the times she used to live with him and Jehan before moving into an apartment with someone else. He’d liked her and in the months they’d lived together they’d grown quite close, they still texted each other funny moments of their days and met up occasionally but the last few months had been kind of quiet. Though Grantaire had only just realised this.

“She’s in the group that came second in The X-Factor, they mentioned us in this interview.”

“I didn’t even know she was in a band, but its good they got that far. Second always does better than first anyway.”

“Yeah, do you not remember? She was in a bad mood because the band’s leader blackmailed her into joining by sleeping with her. She had a full on rant about how attractive he was and how he could use that like a whip. Judging by the blank look on your face that’s a no. Anyway, just watch the interview.” Jehan told him as he passed Grantaire the iPad, “I have to go sort out Bossuet, he snapped his guitar strings again.”

Grantaire started the video again and played it as Jehan left the room muttering about how it wasn’t even his instrument.

 

“So you’re joining me, Mariana, with X-Factor runner ups, The Revolutionaries. Here we have all five members, lead singer, Enjolras, lead guitarist, Combeferre. Bass guitar player Courfeyrac, Éponine on drums and Musichetta the resident pianist.” The interviewer, Mariana, a twenty something woman with long auburn hair, spoke to the camera and gestured at the five people all squashed onto the sofa of the talk show – they looked to be twenty, if that. “So how does it feel to get so close to the end of the X-Factor?”

“I’m pretty damn relieved, it’s exhausting.” Éponine answered. She hadn’t changed much, she was still tall and willowy, still pretty in a rough, gothic way. She wore a tank top with a black bandeau, the colour complimenting the black lettering on the top, denim shorts, with patterned tights and thick-soled combat boots. Her hair had been straightened and the ends were now a vibrant lilac, around her neck hung several different necklaces and on her head she wore a black sun hat.

“What she means is that it’s a lot of hard work and though we didn’t win, we’re proud we got as far as second place.” The beautiful black boy next to her said. He had cheek bones to die for and a strong jawline, his eyes sparked behind his glasses. His hair was shaven up the sides, but it looked good on him, it worked. He was tall with muscles hiding underneath his cream jumper which went quite nice with his jeans. He looked like the nice boy next door who wouldn’t break your heart compared to Éponine, the girl on the other side who’d burn your house down for kicks.

Éponine rolled her eyes at what he said as she muttered under her breath, “God, Combeferre.”

“I never thought it would actually happen, especially when I think back to how just last year we were busking on the street for experience.” The other girl in the group said, a stunning Spanish girl wearing a maxi dress in earthy colours and a denim jacket, her dark hair fell in frizzy curls around her and she spoke with a light accent, “So it just feels so extraordinary that we did it and did so well.”

“Take that Javert!” The boy next to her hollered, his face lighting up with joy. His hazel eyes were bright and his tanned skin seemed to radiate joy, even the neon streaks in his bronze hair seemed to glow with his excitement. Grantaire decided he was someone he wanted to have a drink with and reminded him vaguely of his friend’s manager, Joly – they had a similar cheerfulness and energy.

“Who’s Javert?” the interviewer asked with a frown.

“A music teacher at our old college, he told us once that we never had the talent to make it big.” The final member spoke as the camera zoomed in on him and Grantaire couldn’t breathe. Though all the members of the group were physically gorgeous – to the point it seemed to be some unwritten rule you had to be flawless to be in that group - this boy was absolutely breath-taking.

His skin was very pale and pure, almost reminiscent of Snow White, his hair fell in golden curls around his lovely face, a face which was as beautiful as it was austere. His cheek bones were so sharp Grantaire was sure he could cut salami on them, his lips were pink and plump – just begging to be kissed – his eyes appeared blue and though the brunette didn’t know, they held so many beautiful shades like an ocean. He wore a white V-neck with a red woollen cardigan and navy jeans, with brown boots, but all Grantaire could think as how lovely they’d look discarded somewhere in his room. This man was beautiful and Grantaire was having a hard time dealing with it.

“But we didn’t let him discourage us, we used it as determination to make our sound better, we worked even harder and put in more time and this is where it took us.” The beautiful guy went on, his voice as captivating as his appearance.

“It certainly did you well.” The interviewer nodded. “And you’re not disappointed you only got second?”

“We are a little bit, but we’re just so happy we got so far.” The boy with pink bits in his hair chirped up. “Plus, Montparnasse is absolutely brilliant, I’m a big fan. It’s an honour to lose to him actually.”

“What Courfeyrac here, is not saying is that the runners up always seem to do better from this show.” Éponine pointed out, in that blunt way she always did – Grantaire had liked that about her, she didn’t hide what she meant in fancy words or complicated ways, she was blunt and harsh and honest.

“Éponine!” Combeferre scolded, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he looked at her.

“No, it’s an interesting point, do you have anything lined up next?” Mariana asked.

“Yes actually. We’ve been offered a recording contract and we think we’re going to take it.” The Spanish girl told her, “So, this isn’t the last you’ve heard of us.”

“Good, I’m rather fond of you all already.” The interviewer teased.

“Oh, Mariana.” Courfeyrac said, “You’ll make me blush.”

Mariana laughed, though she was clearly charmed by Courfeyrac. “Who would you say your biggest inspirations are? Enjolras?”

For a moment Grantaire was confused, but then it was clear she was addressing the beautiful blond, “A big inspiration for us are the band, The Pretty Barricaders – Éponine is wearing their shirt” here she showed it off to the camera, before going back to Enjolras, “They’re not very well know, unfortunately because they should be with their talent and energy. Their sound is so itself, it’s hard to describe, it’s so unique and clear and crisp – we’ve all strived to be as talented as the members of that group because they’re just incredible. Not only that, they songs are really inspiring and very relatable.”

“Plus, they’re all really hot.” Éponine added.

“Well, I’m sure lots of your fans will be checking them out now, I know I will.”

“You should, they’re really cool.” Courfeyrac grinned.

“Any other inspirations?” the interviewer asked.

“Actually, yeah.” The other girl, Musichetta said, she glanced at Enjolras before carrying on, “She’s called Euphrasie, but you might know her better as her stage name, Cosette. She’s Enjolras’ twin sister, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Mariana gasped, excitement blooming on her face. Grantaire felt his own face mirror that, he was friends with Cosette – she’d never mentioned she had a brother.

“Unfortunately.” Enjolras muttered and yes, maybe now Grantaire could see the resemblance – they had similar eye shapes, the same curling blonde hair, similar jaw lines and those high, sharp cheekbones people paid thousands for.

“Don’t mind him, he loves her really. We all do. She’s been really supportive of us throughout the contest and her music is amazing and inspiring. They’re both very talented when it comes to music.” Combeferre told the interviewer.

“Does it run in the family?” The interviewer asked.

“Not at all, my… parents… are tone-deaf.” Enjolras answered, flinching slightly around the word ‘parents’, nobody seemed to pick up on it or if they did, they didn’t comment on it.

“We can’t all be as talented as you all.” The interviewer laughed. “So, we’re nearly at the end of this interview sadly. But first we have a performance from our new rising stars: I’m Mariana and these are The Revolutionaries, performing their own original song: Red and Black!”

The camera zoomed out from Mariana and followed the band as they went to where their instruments had set up, they counted in then played.

Musichetta’s piano coming in first then Courfeyrac and Combeferre, followed by Eponine and then finally Enjolras’ vocals. His voice strong and clear, beautiful and commanding as it soared through the notes and lyrics, his eyes blazing as he succumbed to the passion of his song and Grantaire fell more and more in love.

When the song ended and the band said their goodbyes, he pulled up a different tab and began cyberstalking.

“Enjy, you better be dressed, I’m coming in!” A familiar voice called through the thick hotel room door.

Enjolras groaned from under the comforter and pulled a pillow over his head, praying whoever it was would just go away. He hated being woken up: by an alarm, by a person, by the light – it didn’t matter. He closed his eyes again and tried to fall back to sleep when he heard the door open.

He heard the dull tread of footsteps coming closer and then the bed sunk with the sudden addition of a new weight and Enjolras went rolling into the middle of the bed. His eyes shot open and he thrashed as whoever the person was pinned him down. He could hear them laughing. It was familiar, warm like sunshine and trickling like a river. He stopped struggling immediately.

“I hate you ‘Taire.” Enjolras growled, scowling up at the brunet who was currently straddling him, in his hotel bed, he tried not to let his thoughts linger on that. Especially not so early in the morning.

“I know, you tell me regularly.” He grinned, “Combeferre said you had to be up for practise.”

Enjolras blinked up at him, not missing a beat as he said: “Combeferre lied.”

“Did he now?” Grantaire moved back, sitting on his heels, still keeping Enjolras in place. “Then why do I also need to be at that joint-practise?”

Enjolras growled, he reminded the brunet of a kitten or a puppy, especially with his golden bedhead. His heart leapt then, in the almost two years Grantaire had known Enjolras he’d fallen head over microphone in love with the blond as the two had overcome their rocky start and become close friends – close enough that Grantaire could wrestle with him to wake him up.

“It’s a government conspiracy!” Enjolras accused, he started to struggle against a laughing Grantaire, but the brunette was a lot stronger and soon Enjolras gave up.

“Get up Apollo or Bahorel will throw a bucket of water at you. Like last time.” Grantaire told him, bluffing since Bahorel had already left for practise.

“Fine.” Enjolras whined like a child, as Grantaire rolled off him.

The blond got out the bed with a herculean effort and staggered to the shower like a zombie. Grantaire smiled as he watched him go, affection making his heart feel warm. Once he heard the shower go on, he started up the TV and waited.

 

 

 

“We’re late now R.” Enjolras pouted. He hated being late, it was unprofessional and made it seem like he didn’t care. He did care. That was his problem. That, and Combeferre’s disappointed face.

“Thanks to you and your dramatics about not getting up and then your ridiculously long shower.” Grantaire teased as they neared the arena where they would be playing later that night, in their special, one-off joint gig – both of their tours had lined up right and so they decided instead of playing two separate shows, why not play one show together?

“Oh and nothing to do with the fancy coffee you just had to have?” Enjolras retorted, their arguments were like that now, playful and nowhere near the spiteful words and insults meant to burn and hurt like acid.

“Nope, not at all.” Grantaire smiled, opening and holding the door for Enjolras while skilfully holding onto his coffee at the same time. Like a gentleman.

Enjolras ducked into the area, hiding his blush by looking down and they made their way down the backstage corridor, they followed the sounds of the guitar twangs and tinkling piano to the stage where the others were all in varying stages of setting up.

“Enjolras! Grantaire! There you are!” Combeferre exclaimed exasperated and sure enough his face was composed into his disappointed expression, his mouth a straight line, his eyes full of dissatisfaction, like he knows they could do better.

“I brought him to you like I promised.” Grantaire told him.

“Yeah, half an hour late.” Combeferre said, sending him a look.

“Not my fault, that was on Apollo’s extraordinarily long shower.”

“He got a coffee.” Enjolras told Combeferre, the disappointed face making him squirm.

“I saw on Twitter when Courf’ was screaming about how he didn’t want to die.” Combeferre crossed his arms. Enjolras physically winced, now he was disappointed and angry.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Courfeyrac called from when he was restringing his bass guitar and talking to Feuilly and Bahorel. “I’m glad this isn’t a murder mystery. I’m glad I won’t die just yet.”

“Thanks.” Grantaire ginned.

“Grantaire go practise or something, Enjolras, Courfeyrac may I have a word?” Combeferre frowned, he then turned and marched to the side of the stage, waiting for them. Coufeyrac put his bass guitar down and followed Combeferre with a frown.

Enjolras shared a brief look with Grantaire before hurrying after his best friends, his stomach turning in knots.

“Enjolras, you said you weren’t going to let your feelings affect the band.” Combeferre started as Enjolras came to a halt in front of him, “But you’ve been late these past few practise sessions and you’re not focusing. I know you’ve been going out at night, which you don’t normally do and it’s not a bad thing, but it is effecting your work.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been oversleeping and my alarm doesn’t wake me up.” Enjolras said, he could see the worry in Combeferre’s brown eyes and he hated it, hated that he’d caused his closest friends to worry.

“We’re just anxious.” Courfeyrac said, concern etched onto his features.

“I know, I’m sorry. We’ve been spending more time together and it’s just, it’s really nice, I really like him and we’ve been getting on really well.” Enjolras felt his cheeks go red.

“Nawww, our little baby Enjy!” Courfeyrac cooed.

“Courf’!” Combeferre scolded, “We’re supposed to be telling him off not coddling him.”

“But he’s found love, we should be supporting him.” Courfeyrac countered, “And, he’s Enjolras, he’s pretty clueless meaning he’ll need our help.”

“But it’s been distracting him…”

“You two are aware you aren’t actually my parents right?” Enjolras asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You sound like how parents should be over a child.” Enjolras pointed out, “It’s quite cute. You’re like an old married couple.”

“Married! What? No!” Courfeyrac exclaimed his face going bright red as he stuttered around his words.

“We not- it’s not…. No, we wouldn’t-“ Combeferre murmured.

And then, Enjolras got it.

“It was a joke.” Enjolras told them.

“Oh my God. He made a joke.” Courfeyrac gasped, “He really does have it bad.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, “I make jokes.”

“Sure.” Combeferre said, “We should get back to work, but Enjy if you need us, don’t hesitate to ask, yeah?”

“I know. It goes the other way too, if you two need me, I’m here.” Enjolras told them.

“Awh, Enjy!” Courfeyrac cooed, flung his arm around Enjolras and Combeferre as they made their way back to the stage, “I love you guys.”

“We love you too Courf.” Enjolras answered with a small smile.

“We do.” Combeferre smiled.

“Alright, boys break up the love fest,” Éponine called from where she stood behind her drums, her drumsticks stuck in her hair, “We’ve got a show to prepare for.”

 

 

Though she claimed to not be sentimental or care about them on an emotion level, it was actually Éponine who had introduced The Revolutionaries and The Pretty Barricaders. Her band had been attending a celebrity celebratory party for Montparnasse, the winner of The X-Factor in the year they enter and placed second. He had entered the competition as a nineteen year old flamboyant teen and quickly became the quirky character that nobody thought would do very well. But he surprised them all with his versatile voice and Lady Gaga-esque outfits week after week and didn’t get into the bottom two once. The band were happy for him, because his voice was quite simply beautiful and the amount of hard work he put into his singing and his outfits were inspiring. He also thought the whole competition was ‘a load bullshit’, The Revolutionaries had found themselves bonding with him over that, if nothing else.

It was just after they’d said their congratulations to Montparnasse when Éponine gasped, shock flooding onto her face as she half-grinned, half-dropped her jaw.

“No freaking way!” She cried and then threw herself at some guy. The guy in question was very blonde, with his hair styled intricately on his head with millions of tiny flowers braided into it, he wore clashing floral patterns but grinned as he recognised her and hugged her to him tightly.

 

 

 

 

“Éponine! It’s been so long!” He beamed, his eyes closed as he hugged her close. He opened his eyes then, and from over her shoulder registered the other band members, stood awkwardly around them. He released Éponine and blinked at them all.

“Guys and Chetta, this is my friend Jehan whom I used to live with. Jehan these are my band mates. The sullen blonde is Enjolras, that face you’re pulling right now Enj, just proves my point, the glasses guy is Combeferre, pint-sized and pink streaks is Courfeyrac and the girl is Musichetta.” Éponine introduced them.

“Wait, Jehan as in the Jehan who inspired how I play the piano? From The Pretty Barricaders?” Musichetta asked, her eyes lighting up as she went into fangirl mode.

“Yeah.” Jehan smiled, then clutched a hand to his heart as he cooed with so much sincerity and sweetness, “I inspired you? That means so much to me, oh my gods, wow!”

“I can’t believe we’re actually meeting you.” Courfeyrac grinned, “Like an actual member of our favourite band! ‘Ferre, this is amazing! Best day ever!”

“The others are all over there, if you want to join me. We saw you on The X-Factor and we were quite inspired by you too. I know they’d love to meet you.” Jehan said, he lead them to the back corner, away from the dancefloor and bar.

The other four members of Jehan’s band and two other guys were lounging on some of the sofas, drinking and chatting. Enjolras had just enough time to recognise a shock of bright blonde hair before a 5’4 ball of energy had flung herself at him.

“Enjy!” The girl cried with glee, her eyes bright and slightly glazed as she grinned up at him. He put his arms around her to steady her as she stumbled into him.

“Cosette.” Enjolras laughed slightly, he helped to support her until she could stand by herself, once she could she batted his hands away and stood looking at them all.

“Hey!” She said to the rest of the group, she took both Enjolras’ hand and Éponine’s, then proceeded to drag them over to the sofas, the other band members laughing at their struggle. “We were just talking about you, you need to meet these people.”

The group on the sofas fell silent as Cosette approached with the other band in tow. She gestured to them all.

“So, you’ve met Jehan I assume.” She gestured to the blond again and he smiled, leaning back against a bulking man with gorgeously tanned skin and huge muscles, “Then there’s Bahorel, he’s funny and he can carry me like a fireman.”

“She missed out totally drop dead gorgeous and immensely talented.” Bahorel added with a grin.

“Modest too.” Éponine commented with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Oooh, Feuilly, I like her! She’s feisty.” Bahorel nudged the red head next to him.

Feuilly was as tall as Bahorel, though where the drummer was muscular, the bassist was thin and willowy. He had a nice face, with a warm smile and kind eyes, though he seemed more worn out and fragile than the others.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Feuilly said and coming for him, it genuinely sounded like it was an honour.

“We then have Bossuet, the guitarist and resident baldie, though we love him, next to him is Joly, he’s a precious cinnamon roll and a brilliant manager.” Cosette slurred, gesturing to a bald man with skin as rich as Combeferre’s and Joly, the weedy guy next to him – whom Enjolras had met a few times and had liked for his persistent and perky attitude. The two of them seemed rather enraptured by Musichetta as they stared at her, she smiled back with a blush on her cheeks.

“We then have Marius.” Cosette said, “He’s the band’s manager.”

Marius was freckly and gangly, his limbs seemed to be too big for him, like he’d never quite grown into them properly– this made him quite clumsy and he kept knocking and walking into things. He stared adoringly at Cosette as she spoke and it made Enjolras’ eyes narrow. Then he noticed the way Éponine was staring at him and he’s brows furrowed even more.

“Relax blondie, Marius is as harmless as they come.” A cocky voice filtered from the last person, the one Cosette had yet to introduce, but they all knew – they knew the others too, though Cosette had forgotten how much they loved the band due to her alcohol consumption and in Enjolras’ opinion, ditzy thoughts.

His inky black curls looked even messier in real life, his eyes a brighter green than in the photos. He looked shorter and stockier than in his pictures, but in a good way. The photos also missed the barely-there stubble that Enjolras wanted to feel against his face, the muscular arms he wanted to be wrapped around him, the legs and chest he wanted pinning him to the wall, the lips, so kissable that he wanted to feel all over his body and okay, stop there Enjolras, you’re in public….

It was then Enjolras realised he hadn’t said anything in reply and that his bandmates were looking at him with varying degrees of worry.

“Looks can be deceiving.” Enjolras answered.

“Indeed they can.” He replied with a mocking grin.

“That’s Grantaire, the lead singer, he’s a laugh.” Cosette finished, due to her intoxication she had seemingly missed the interaction between them.

“Guys, this is my twin, Enjolras and his bandmates, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Musichetta and Éponine.” She introduced them in turn. “They’re big fans of yours.”

“And we are them.” Joly grinned, “I particularly like your version of The Ghostbuster Theme on Halloween week.”

“Oh God, don’t get Enjy started on that, he hated that week…” Musichetta laughed, sitting on the coffee table in front of Joly and Bossuet to talk to them about that week. Courfeyrac started talking to Feuilly about the bass guitar and Combeferre joined him. Jehan started catching up with Éponine, the others descended into their own chatter leaving Enjolras alone.

He wasn’t alone long, Cosette pulled him into hers, Marius and Grantaire’s conversation quite quickly.

“So how did you form your band?” Marius asked Enjolras.

“We just decided to form it.” Enjolras told him.

“No, tell the truth Enjy.” Éponine said, her voice loud which caught the attention of the others and their conversations lulled to a stop.

“That’s the truth.” Enjolras told her.

“You missed the point about why we decided to start the band.” Musichetta told him.

The sat in silence for a beat before Joly spoke, “Okay, I’ll bite, why did you decide to form a band?”

“Enjy, you telling them or are we?” Éponine asked, amusement in her eyes.

“I’m not ashamed of it.” Enjolras simply said defiantly.

Musichetta spoke, “Basically, as you can see Enjolras is a very attractive specimen of humankind and he damn-well knows how to use that to his advantage. When I protested to joining the band when he asked me - because I thought the idea was stupid at the time, my parents raised me to play classical piano only and they shunned bands frequently – he started flirting and then one thing led to another and we slept together for him to convince me it’d be a good idea.”

“Wow.” Bahorel clapped.

“But he didn’t stop there.” Éponine said, “Oh no, he used the same method to get me to join too.”

“I remember you ranting about it.” Jehan said.

“It’s a full-proof method though, it got me too.” Courfeyrac admitted.

“That’s just, wow.” Bahorel said, his voice full of awe. “I think you’re my new hero, Enjolras.”

“They were the best musicians apart from ‘Ferre who’d been my best friend since birth so I automatically knew he’d join me. But the others were just people in my music class at uni, they were, in my opinion, the most talented at their instrument and I wanted them in my band and I knew we would work well. I just had to bring them all together.” Enjolras explained with a shrug, “I knew their anger or resentment would work.”

“So, is Combeferre the only who’s not slept with Enjolras?” Feuilly asked, his voice full of wonder.

“Oh, no, I’ve slept with Enjolras.” Combeferre said simply and took a sip of his drink.

“Wait, what?” Courfeyrac spat out some of his drink in shock.

“When did this happen?” Éponine asked.

“Before the band. How’d you think Enjolras got so good?” Combeferre smirked.

“Your band is so inbred.” Grantaire laughed as Courfeyrac turned bright red and spluttered over his drink, Jehan slapping his back to get him to stop choking.

“Says you.” Jehan snorted, “Haven’t you guys all slept together, I feel like I’m the only one who hasn’t because I’m ace.”

“I’m feeling left out.” Cosette pouted, “I’ve not slept with any of you.”

“Meet out back in five, ‘Sette and we’ll change that.” Grantaire said playfully with a wink.

Enjolras didn’t know what it was but his fist clenched in fury at that, he saw red as his jealousy and brotherly instinct boiled over. And yes, it killed him he was jealous that Grantaire would want Cosette, even just a small bit in that, for him to joke about it.

“That’s my sister, we’re talking about.” Enjolras snapped.

“Relax, Apollo, it was a joke.”

“And an alleyway, don’t you have better standards than that?”

“Says the guy who slept with people to get what he wanted.” Grantaire retorted.

“Oh my god, I just knew you’d be that person! You’d just have to judge! I can do what I want with my body so long as it is consensual and it was!” Enjolras bite back, “Go ahead and call me all those derogatory terms, I’ve heard them before, be that person.”

“Do you think that low of me already that you think that of me?” Grantaire narrowed his eyes, “Look who’s judging who.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Enjolras was aware it was a weak comeback, but it made Grantaire puff up with anger. Enjolras only saw that briefly before he was being dragged away by Éponine and Combeferre. He met Grantaire’s gaze before he was dragged into the crowd, a look of disappointment, maybe, flashed across the brunet’s face. Enjolras seethed.

 

 

It was a huge unexpected surprise that they were able to perform a show together, after their start. They’d argued at every opportunity, shouted insults like greeting, made passive-aggressive Twitter posts about each other, they were always picking fights so much so they’d had to be pried away from each other by their friends before they actually resorted to violence for months before something had changed and they’d suddenly stopped. It had been like dealing two bratty school children for the rest of their friends.

But now, as Enjolras watched the way Grantaire curved around his guitar, his voice blending with Enjolras’ as they sang together and the crowd roared in front of them, he wouldn’t wish to be anywhere but there. He felt himself smile at the concentration on Grantaire’s face, the way his curls fell over his eyes slightly, the way Grantaire stuck his tongue out little as he focused. He was adorable.

Grantaire looked up at him then and grinned as the band played around them in an instrumental, he took his guitar off then, like planned, and placed it on the empty stand. Then the brunet marched to Enjolras and pulled him close as they started to dance together – which was not planned. Enjolras’ head fell back as he laughed, his hair catching the stage lights and his laughter lost in the music. Grantaire moved them back and forth, up and down the stage, their hips locked together and chests close. Grantaire then proceeded to twirl and dip Enjolras as they danced to the music, both aware of the photo flashes capturing every moment. They didn’t care.

They pulled apart when they had to sing again, but neither could quite hide the blush on their cheeks. They kept looking at each other as their voices intertwined and their fans screamed. When the song ended they just grinned at each other.

Then Enjolras got an idea, he ran back to Musichetta on piano and whispered to her, his idea, she nodded and then he zipped around the other musicians telling him their plan, all but Grantaire.

“So our next song…” Grantaire was saying.

“Actually,” Enjolras butted in taking a big breath, “I’ve got a surprise performance for you all, it’s not been scheduled but it means a lot to me since I remember hearing it as it was a work in progress so I’ve memorised it long ago.” He could see the people nearest him sharing wide eyed looks, he just smiled and continued, “I just feel the need to sing this song, it’s a shame my sister got there first. Do you mind citizens, if I sing it now?”

The answering cheers told him no they didn’t mind and he smiled. Grantaire looked at him curiously. Two stools were dragged out from off stage by two of the technicians and Enjolras smiled at them as he sat on one of the stools and gestured that Grantaire so the same. The brunette did so, cautiously.

“Alright, Chetta, ready?” Enjolras asked.

“I was born ready.” Musichetta replied.

Enjolras closed his eyes and sang as Musichetta played the piano accompaniment: “Would you bleed for me? Lick it off my lips like you needed me? Would you sit me on a couch with your fingers in my mouth? You look so cool when you’re reading me.”

Grantaire smiled recognising it and he sang at the same time Enjolras did, “Let’s cause a little trouble, oh you make me feel so weak.” Enjolras opened his eyes and smiled at Grantaire, they kept eye-contact as they sang, “I bet you kiss your knuckles, right before they touch my cheek.”

“But I’ve got my mind made up this time, ‘cause there’s a menace in my bed,” Grantaire sang alone as Enjolras smiled at him, “Can you see his silhouette? Can you see his silhouette? Can you see his silhouette?”

Enjolras sang this part, “And I’ve got my mind made up this time, go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head, set a fire in my head tonight.”

“Would you lie for me? Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?” Grantaire sang this verse, “Would you pin me to a wall? Would you beg or would you crawl? Stick a needle in your hungry eyes for me?”

“Let’s cause a little trouble,” They both sang, making eye contact, “Oh, you make me feel so weak, I bet you kiss your knuckles right before they touch my cheek.”

“But I’ve got my mind made up this time,” They carried on, Musichetta and Éponine doing backup vocals, “Cause there’s a menace in my bed, can you see his silhouette? Can you see his silhouette? Can you see his silhouette?”

Enjolras then sang alone, “And I’ve got my mind made up this time, go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head, set a fire in my head tonight.”

Here Musichetta played a small solo, her playing showing all of her skills whilst skilfully sounding like the tune. They swayed slightly as they enjoyed her playing.

“Don’t forget me, don’t forget me.” Grantaire sang with a look at Enjolras.

“I wouldn’t leave you if you’d let me.” Enjolras sang the next line and they took turns singing a line.

“When you met, when you met me.”

“You told me, you were gonna get me.”

“Don’t forget me, don’t forget me.”

“I wouldn’t leave you if you’d let me.”

“And I’ve got my mind made up this time.” They both sang, “Cause there’s a menace in my bed, can you see his silhouette? Can you see his silhouette? Can you see his silhouette?” They shared a look before carrying on: “And I’ve got my mind made up this time, go on and light a cigarette, set a fire in my head, set a fire in my head tonight, tonight, tonight.”

They paused and then sang: “Set a fire in my head, tonight.”

The silence broke off into applause and Enjolras smiled.

“Did you like that?” Enjolras asked the crowd.

“Not bad to say that was completely impromptu.” Grantaire laughed, “Of course, that’s down to our wonderful pianist, Musichetta.”

“Stop or I’m going to vomit.” Musichetta called from her piano, though she was smiling and had a faint blush on her cheeks.

Grantaire laughed, “We should get back onto the set list before our managers kill us.”

“Oh, Gods. I hadn’t thought of that. Floréal is scary when she’s angry.” Enjolras’ eyes widened with mock-panic.

He faintly heard a call of ‘Damn straight I am!” from back stage and laughed quietly. Floreal had been the latest addition to their group, their spunky, pink-haired manager who’s sass fit right in with the rest of them. She was also an amazing manager, she knew how to play people to get what she wanted just as well as Enjolras.

“We give you our next collaboration, a song originally by The Pretty Barricaders: I’m Wild!”

 

 

Enjolras was laid on the bed in the hotel they were staying for one of their last nights on tour, flicking through channels when he found a recent interview from The Pretty Barricaders, it had been only shot a few days ago, judging by Grantaire’s hair. He turned the sound up.

 

“So, you guys are quite close with The Revolutionaries?” The interviewer, the elegant and tall blonde celebrity gossip hub, Cassiopée, asked. She was notorious for being as ruthless as she was beautiful, ready to rip her interviewees to shreds if the chance arouse.

“We are.” Bahorel smiled, “They’re a great band and real inspiration to us.”

“They’re also hella cool.” Bossuet cheered with a smile.

“Glad you spoke up Bossuet, are you dating their pianist, Muischetta?” Cassiopée asked, her green eyes sparkling with the chance of getting some juicy detail.

“I am. I’m also seeing Joly who manages Cosette.” Bossuet answered.

“Cheating on them?” She asked, leaning forward.

“No, we decided to do love triangles right, so we’re in a polyamorous relationship.” Bossuet explained, “I love them both and they love me and each other equally, so we decided it would be all three or no one.”

“Adorable.” Cassiopée smiled, though her tone made it sound the opposite, Enjolras frowned. “How about you guys, any of you in relationships?”

“Nope, sorry to disappoint you, Cass.” Grantaire said when it was clear no one else was going to talk.

“Well, actually I have a question for you Grantaire, because now I can ask about a certain blond lead singer.” She smiled, it reminded Grantaire of a shark, all teeth and no emotion, “What’s going on with you and Enjolras?”

“We’re friends, nothing more, sorry.” Grantaire said with a shrug.

“Oh come on, the way you sang together at your combined gig made it seem like you were something more. There’s definite chemistry between you two.” She hounded.

“That’s just how we are, ask any of our friends.” Grantaire said.

“It’s true.” Feuilly vouched for him.

“But is there any chance of a romance between you two?” Cassiopée asked.

It was then that the door was yanked open and Courfeyrac flew into the room.

“Enjolras turn that TV off now!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, his eyes full of conflicting emotions as he barrelled towards the blond.

“No, I’m watching their interview.” Enjolras frowned, rolling onto the remote so Courfeyrac couldn’t steal it.

“Enjy…” Coufeyrac sighed.

“Honestly?” Grantaire spoke then and Enjolras turned his attention back to the TV. “I don’t think so, we’re great as friends but I think we’d be terrible as a couple, we’d be the kind that breaks up every week and gets back together every weekend. We’d drive everybody insane and it’d be a complete disaster. We’re better off as friends.”

Enjolras’ mouth opened slightly and Coufeyrac’s face fell. Enjolras’ vision blurred and his chest ached, he felt the bed go down with Courfeyrac’s weight as the smaller moved closer to the blond, he felt himself be pulled into a hug as he slumped against his friend.

“Oh.” Was the only thing Enjolras said as Courfeyrac held him close and he tried to ignore his heart breaking into two.

 

 

“Enjolras, cheer up, we have an end of tour party to go to.” Éponine said as she tried her best attempt at a supporting smile, it looked more like a grimace so she stopped. They’d been taking it in turns to try to cheer Enjolras up and now it was hers.

“He’ll be there.” Enjolras replied gloomily.

“I know and I know how it hurts, but you have to put on your brave face.” She said. She could understand him better than the others, being in a similar position with Cosette and Marius, but enough of her own problems she wasn’t here for that, she was here for her friend. “You have to make him see what he’s missing.”

“How will he see if he’s not looking anyway?” Enjolras mumbled.

“He’ll see. Besides, we don’t even know if it’s the truth.” Éponine said, she knew it was a lie, it was plain to see in the way Grantaire looked at Enjolras. It was sickeningly sweet. It reminded her of how Cosette and Marius looked at her…

“But he said it.”

“To the most ruthless celebrity gossip Queen, if she asked you about him, you wouldn’t say how you really felt about him, you’d lie, try to cover it up so she wouldn’t expose your secret.” Éponine told him, a hand on her hip. He opened his mouth to protest but she carried, on, “You know I’m right so don’t try to fight me, Enjy.”

“Fine, you’re right.” Enjolras nodded reluctantly.

“You’ll find, I’m right about most things.” She smiled wryly.

“Though it pains me to say it,” He teased, “You are and we need to listen to you more.”

“Amen.” She laughed, “Now, let me pick an outfit because you have the fashion sense of a Grandpa.”

“But-“

“Did you not just say you should listen to me more?” She cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow. “I know what I’m doing Enjy.”

“Fine.”

“Good boy.” She patted him on the head and went to the wardrobe to pick an outfit. He shook his head but smiled anyway, he was thankful for his friends.

 

 

Grantaire’s jaw dropped as he saw Enjolras through the crowd of people, he was stood with Floréal and a few other important looking people. They were talking seriously and Enjolras looked very grim. He’d heard Éponine had taken over his wardrobe and so he’d been expecting a vaguely, half-fashionably attempt at an outfit, not the tight ripped jeans, tight dark red shirt which was buttoned to show some of Enjolras’ chest, not the leather jacket that clung to his lithe figure or the biker boots. His hair had been gelled just so it captured the light and made it look golden.

“Keep it in your pants ‘Taire.” A familiar voice said from his side with a pleased and smug laugh.

Grantaire turned to look at Éponine with a betrayed expression, “You betrayed me by making him look hot. He’s a dork, but now he’s a hot dork, hot dorks are my downfall, Ep, I can’t cope. You knew and you used it against me.”

“I knew that interview was a load of bullshit.” She grinned.

“What interview?”

“The one to Cassiopée, you said there was no chance of romance between you two.” She reminded him with a knowing smile, then she glanced over at Enjolras. “He was crushed when he heard it, little precious dandelion that he is.”

“No, it’s true just not for the reasons I said.” Grantaire smiled sadly, the kind of smile when someone wanted something with every fibre of their being but they’d come to terms with that fact they’d never in a million years have it. It made her sad and frustrated – two emotions she hated with passion.

“What reasons do you have?”

“He doesn’t like me like that and I’m not ruining our friendship by telling him that I like him. We’re really close and I’d rather have that, then angry silence and nothing.” Grantaire said, glancing back over at Enjolras, they made eye contact and Enjolras pulled a face to express his boredom of that conversation he was in. Grantaire smiled back supportively before turning back to Éponine.

“I think you’d be surprised by the answer, if you did talk to him.” Éponine said, “Also, did you not hear my dandelion comment?”

“I dismissed it because apparently pigs fly now.” Grantaire snorted. He sipped the drink in his hand and then spoke again, “Enough of my lack of love life, how’s yours going with Cosette and Marius?”

“Cosette is trying to ‘woo’ me and convince Marius that the three of us would be a good idea.” Éponine answered, which Cosette had done, but Éponine was still not sure. She felt so strongly for both of them, but she didn’t know if she could open herself up to the possibility of pain.

“Doesn’t Cosette know you’re already ‘wooed’ by her?” Grantaire asked.

Éponine blushed, she was quite taken with Cosette. She looked like a stereotypical Disney Princess but in actual fact was a major badass. It was hard not to fall for her. And, Marius, well, he was just Marius. Sweet, socially awkward and beautiful. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, speak of the devil.”

“Éponine! ‘Taire!” The blonde glided over to them with a huge smile.

“Hey Cosette.” Grantaire smiled and kissed her cheek.

Éponine just sipped the drink in her hand.

“’Ponine, can we go dance? I’m dying to boogie the night away and no one else is willing. Courfeyrac’s gone off with Combeferre to some corner, Bosseut is banned from dancing by ‘Chetta and Joly, Bahorel would but he doesn’t want to leave Feuilly who in turn will not leave Jehan because apparently they’re up to an important mission or something and Marius can’t dance to save his life.” Cosette said all in one breath, Grantaire saw the nervousness in her eyes and the slight edge to her jaw though she hid it well with her intoxication.

“Go on, ‘Ep, you love dancing.” Grantaire smiled, giving her the push she needed, the brunette turned to give him a half-confused, half-venomous glare and he mouthed the words ‘go for it’ at her.

“Okay.” She smiled, handing Grantaire her empty glass and then she was off, being dragged along behind Cosette and Grantaire was alone.

“Hey.” A familiar voice said from behind him

Grantaire was glad to see Enjolras as he turned around and grinned at him. He looked even hotter up close, with the cheeky bit of chest on display, Grantaire found himself blushing.

“Hey yourself.” He smiled.

“I need a drink or seven after that conversation, come with me?” Enjolras asked, his blue eyes were full of hope and apprehension as he met Grantaire’s gaze, his lips were pressed into a line and Grantaire couldn’t say no. “I want to talk to you.”

“About?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

Enjolras looked at him for a long moment, as if savouring his appearance, remembering it – though what for Grantaire wasn’t sure. Then the blond spoke, “About some stuff.”

“Sounds ominous.” Grantaire smiled, “But first a drink?”

Instead of replying, the blond grabbed the brunette’s hand, a surge of courage going through him. His skin felt electrified at the contact and he felt himself smile, not that he could stop the reaction even if he tried. Grantaire blinked at him, startled. But before he could utter a word, Enjolras smiled and pulled him into the crowd, towards the bar and the dancefloor.

 

 

 

Enjolras groaned when he woke up, the light streaming into the room sending stabbing pricks of pain into his eyes, his head pounded and he felt his stomach churning. He could smell the faint remnants of cigarette smoke that seemed to cling everywhere, he closed his eyes and willed it all away. Of course nothing happened.

So he rolled away from the light, hoping to get a few more hours sleep when he rolled into a warm body. He squealed, though he’d deny it later, and jumped back to the edge of the bed. He recognised the inky black curls immediately and his heart seemed to split in two, one half soaring high with joy and the other sinking in dread.

Grantaire opened his eyes then and smiled weakly at Enjolras, who stared back like a deer caught in headlights. He looked in no better shape than Enjolras, his eyes squinting in the light and ringed by darkness, his face pale for him and his hair a mess.

“Wait, what are you doing in my bed?” Grantaire asked quietly.

“I think this is my bed.” Enjolras told him.

“Oh.” Grantaire sighed and closed his eyes before it sunk in and he opened them again, “Why am I in your bed?”

“Did we….?” Enjolras trailed off, he sat up and gathered the sheets around his skinny hips. Grantaire noted he looked more fragile without clothes, more vulnerable and thinner. “Because I’m not wearing anything…”

“Me neither.” Grantaire answered with mild horror in his voice.

“You don’t think we did, do you? I don’t remember anything after we went to get drinks.” Enjolras said, reaching to the bedside table to get his phone. Grantaire didn’t want to alarm him but from the marks on his torso, they’d done plenty.

“If we did, it would be the time I get so drunk I can’t remember. Typical.” Grantaire sighed.

“Well I got a text from Courf’ asking if he should get excited about his ship.” Enjolras told him, “And I sent back: now’s not the time Courf’ but it’s all garbled and illegible. He sent back lots of winking emojis.”

“There’s a picture of us leaving the party together.” Grantaire said as he flicked through his own phone, “We look a little rumpled, your hair is insane.”

“Says the one with that… thing on his head.” Enjolras teased as he gestured the mess of Grantaire’s hair.

“Hey, you have bedhead too, you look like a lion.”

“I know, I always do. I’m going to shower so I can clear my head a bit.” Enjolras told him as he got out of the bed, stark naked.

“You aren’t going to cover up?” Grantaire asked averting his eyes whilst his face went red.

“Chances are, you’ve already seen it all already.” Enjolras said as he walked to the bathroom, totally calm and confident. Another thing Grantaire admired and was freaking out over.

Grantaire let his calm façade melt and he knew his expression was a mess. He pulled up a contact on his phone and dialled the number. The call went to voicemail. He sighed but left a message:

“Hey Ep. I’m kind of freaking out. I had sex… with Enjolras… multiple times…. But he can’t remember if we did or not so I pretended I couldn’t remember either but I can and it was amazing, he’s amazing, but I guess you already knew that huh?  
“Anyway, I’m kind of freaking out because it’s him and I just can’t deal with it. What if we’ve fucked things up? But it was so good and I think I’m even more in love. Call me back at some point, yeah? ‘Ponine, I really need your calming cynicism and brutal honesty.”

He hung up.

He didn’t know why he’d lied to Enjolras. Or maybe he did.

Enjolras was beautiful and knew how to use that beauty as a weapon, like a tightly coiled whip e could lash out at any moment, or a sharpened blade, beautiful but deadly. Grantaire knew he had a past of having sex with people to get what he wanted, Grantaire sincerely hoped that this wasn’t the case for him. He wanted to think he was special. If he didn’t admit to remembering they’d spent an amazing night together, he could pretend it didn’t happen and he could pretend that this wasn’t some kind of plan or game Enjolras was playing.

He could pretend it meant something.

 

 

“So you did the do with Grantaire? Multiple times?” Courfeyrac asked, “And pretended you couldn’t remember if you had or not? Are you insane?”

“You didn’t see his face.” Enjolras told them. “He looked horrified and I thought I’d ruined everything between us, we’re such good friends now, I don’t want to ruin it again. And, he said he couldn’t remember either so…”

Éponine pressed her lips together and looked away from Enjolras. Courfeyrac had called a band meeting at his and Enjolras’ apartment to discuss the Enjolras/Grantaire crisis – as he called it. They were in varying positions on the sofa as Enjolras paced up and down the living room.

“Have you talked to him since?” Combeferre asked.

“No.” Enjolras sighed.

“Maybe you should tell him you remember what happened and see what he says.” Éponine suggested, her eyes burning as she risked a look at Enjolras, trying to convey a message to him.

“But he’ll ask why I lied to him.” Enjolras pointed out. “And, he might hate me because of it – I’d be really mad if I was him.”

“I think he’d be find if you explained it. All of it.” Éponine said.

“Urgh, Celebrity News 24/7 got wind of it.” Musichetta told them, showing the tweet on her phone. Enjolras sighed. “The internet is going to explode.”

“Cassiopée will ask about it in your interview tomorrow.” Floréal said with a groan. She ran a hand through her pink hair with an exasperated expression on her face.

“What do I say?” Enjolras asked, “We slept together and it was awesome but I’m pretending I can’t remember any of it to preserve our friendship because I really love him and I can’t bear to lose him.”

“No, that’s what you should say to Grantaire.” Éponine told him, “To her just say you don’t want to talk about it.”

“But that makes it look like it was bad, which isn’t that case because we all know Enjolras is a wonder in the sheets.” Floréal said, he’d used his game plan to convince her to manage them, it had worked, “Plus it’s her, she won’t leave it at that. You either need to deny it or accept it, but since you’ve denied it to Grantaire, accepting it now will look weird. He’ll ask questions.”

Enjolras sighed.

“Well done on fucking this up.” Éponine congratulated him, then asked, “Can we get pizza now?”

-

 

“So, what’s next for your band after that tour?” Cassiopée asked, leaning in to be closer to the band and also to show off more of her cleavage to Enjolras and Combeferre.

“We’re going to work on recording our second album which should be fun.” Courfeyrac smiled, “We’ve already got some new ideas for songs, it’s just writing up the lyrics, learning our parts and then recording them.”

“I, and the rest of you fans, can’t wait! Is there a chance you’ll do a song with Cosette and Grantaire?” she asked, batting her long eyelashes and widening her big eyes.

“We’re in the process of brainstorming ideas for a song, actually.” Enjolras said, “But we might just do a mash up of all of our songs instead.”

“That would be fun!” Cassiopée exclaimed, then her green eyes took on the familiar glint that meant she thought she could get a story, “Speaking of Grantaire, what’s going on with you two, Enjolras?”

“We’re friends.”

“Really? That’s not what it looks like on twitter. With your dancing at the shared gig, the leaving parties early, getting coffee when you should have been at practice, checking out of a hotel room together.” She pushed.

“When you take it out of context it looks like that.” Enjolras answered.

“And you sang Trouble to him and that was a really romantic moment.” She pushed, “You can’t deny you have chemistry. You’re basically dating each other.”

“We’re friends.” Enjolras repeated, his voice cool and calm.

“But you must have wondered what it would be like if you dated? Ever wondered what it would be like to kiss him? To hug him? To have him sing romantic songs at you? And have you ever wondered what it would be like to do what everyone is insinuating you did?”

“Cass, can we talk about something else please?” Courfeyrac asked.

“No, I want to know, your fans want to know, you’re driving us insane with it.” She prodded, “Is there any chance you’ll get together or already are together? Maybe you’re secretly dating?”

“Enjy, doesn’t have to say.” Éponine told her, her eyebrows forming harsh lines as she stared their host down. She looked ready to fight the blonde host, who just stared back at her.

“What’s our business is our business, things are private for a reason.” Musichetta narrowed her eyes.

“But this has been made to the public eye through Twitter, therefore Enjolras should answer my question it’s a simple answer.” Cassiopée argued, “A yes or a no.”

“That Enjolras doesn’t have to disclose.” Combeferre told her.

“Don’t speak for him, he’s his own person.” She replied sharply.

“I don’t need to answer your question, what’s my business is my business only, I don’t have to tell anyone if we slept together or not, if we’re secretly dating or not, if we’re just friends or not, if I have feelings for him or not. I don’t have to tell you anything and it wouldn’t matter anyway, people would gossip and speculate if they knew or didn’t. We’re friends and that’s all you need to know.” Enjolras spoke.

“Just answer the question.” There was a threat in her eyes and sharpness to her voice.

“I won’t let you bully me into admitting something I don’t want to. It’s time people like you stopped trying to make people like me spill our secrets. We may be famous but that doesn’t mean you can have access to our whole lives, we’re people too and we deserve respect of our privacy as much as an office worker or a teacher and so on.” Enjolras told her. “I don’t have to tell anyone and to be perfectly honest, I couldn’t tell you what you want because I don’t know the answer myself. I know how I feel and what I want but I don’t know if he wants the same, I don’t know how he’d react, I don’t know if he’d hate me for it or not. I know half the story so I can’t tell you a full one, so back off..”

“But-“ she tried to object.

“No, we’re done on this topic, either drop it or I walk out of this interview and never come back.” Enjolras told her.

“And we’re right behind him.” Combeferre added, looking at his other bandmates who all nodded their approval of the impromptu plan.

Cassiopée glared at them all, her jaw set but then she nodded, sensing her defeat, “Fine. Next question…”

 

 

“I was on a heavy tip, tryna cross a canyon with a broken limb,” a familiar voice crooned from the speaker as Enjolras drove his car, he and Cosette were going to visit their real father. He lived out in the country side, in a quaint village being fairly reclusive and quiet. Due to the distance it meant they got a long drive in Enjolras’ convertible.

“You were on the other side, like always, wondering what to do with life. I’d already had a sip so I’d reasoned I was drunk enough to deal with it.” Grantaire’s voice sang on, his voice quite soft for a change.

Enjolras took a deep breath then and Cosette shot him a concerned look through the huge sunglasses. They had the top down and the wind was pushing her hair back so it flowed like golden ribbon. Enjolras’ hair was a mess on his head and only getting messier with the wind. But, it was Cosette’s favourite thing about the drive and he couldn’t deny her that.

“You were on the other side, like always, you could never make up your mind.”

“It seems a borderline unhealthy and slightly obsessive to make yourself listen to his music when you’re trying to get over him.” Cosette said. “Or you’re avoiding him or whatever.”

“And with one kiss, you inspired a fire of devotion.”

“I need to learn how to be friends with him again, plus this is on every radio station all the time. I can’t not listen to it.” Enjolras told her. The Pretty Barricaders had released a new song which had, naturally, gone to the top of the charts and so was played almost constantly. It drove Enjolras insane because he loved the song and he loved Grantaire but it hurt too much to listen to.

“That lasted for twenty years, what kind of man loves like this?” Grantaire’s voice sang, he sounded more fragile, like he could break at any second, it broke Enjolras’ heart, lulled it into a false saddness. There was the part where the song changed completely. The band really came in, their sound loud and clashing combined with Grantaire’s voice, now switched from the soft, gentle thing it had been, it grew powerful, full of anger. It hurt.

“No, you need to talk to him, explain that you panicked.” Cosette insisted. She, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Musichetta and Éponine had been voted onto the mission of convincing Enjolras to talk to Grantaire. The others were on the side of getting Grantaire to talk to Enjolras. It had been a unanimous decision on the ‘Let’s Get These Two Knuckled Heads Together Before The Mutual Pinning Kills Everyone’ group chat they had.

“To let me dangle at a cruel angle, oh, my feet don’t touch the floor.” Grantaire’s voice picked up its power her and passion filled his voice, “Sometimes you’re half in and then you’re half out, but you never close the door.”

Cosette sighed, the song was so obviously about her twin. She could see the pain they were both going through, see the longing and how great they’d be if they both got their heads out of the asses and actually talked to each other – hell, she’d even been through that so she knew how important it was that they communicated. They drove her insane but she loved them both so the only thing she could do was convince them to talk.

“What kind of man love like this? What kind of man? What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?” Grantaire asked. “You’re a holy fool, all coloured blue, red feet upon the floor. You do such damage, how do you manage trying back for more?”

“I like him so much.” Enjolras confessed.

“And with one kiss, you inspired a fire of devotion that lasted for twenty years, what kind of man loves like this?”

“I know, that’s why you need to speak to him.” Cosette said.

“What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man? What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?” Grantaire was almost shouting at this point, his anger and passion and love all merging into the words.

“What do I say?” He sighed.

“But I can’t beat you, ‘cause I’m still with you, oh, mercy I implore. How do you do it? I think I’m through then I’m back against the wall.”

“How about you say: ‘Grantaire, I’m a massive idiot but I really like you and I know you like me too. So let’s skip all the pining and drama and have lots of little curly-haired musical prodigy babies together’.” Cosette told him, her eyes – though he couldn’t see through her sunglasses – were shining with laughter as she grinned at him.

“What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?”

“Oh and that worked for you, Ep and Marius?” Enjolras countered, his eyes focused on the road as they zoomed along the road.

“What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?”

“Of course not, they got mad when I called them Grantaire.” She teased and Enjolras, despite himself, laughed at her joke. He was pleased he had her for a twin.

“What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?”

“You’re silly.” Enjolras told her.

“What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?”

She raised her eyebrows and looked out into the distance before answering: “You are too.”

 

 

 

 

Enjolras walked into the studio with a sullen expression on his face, Grantaire had asked to meet him and he knew, somehow, he just knew that Grantaire wanted to talk about them. And then he’d lose him, but Enjolras had come to terms with it, he could lose Grantaire if it meant Grantaire was happy. Though it would break his heart.

He shed his red coat and scarf, throwing them onto one of the chairs in the room.

“Enjolras, I saw the interview with Cassiopée.” Grantaire said.

Enjolras felt his blood go cold but he forced himself to nod. He could do this, he needed to do this.

“I asked you to meet me here because I think we should write and sing a song together.” Grantaire said, his hands beating out a rhythm on the box he was sat on. “To address all the media hype around our… relationship.”

“Why?” Enjolras asked, he didn’t know what to say to Grantaire now, not after all that.

“Because,” Grantaire said, his voice gaining anger as he spoke, “I’m sick of not knowing what we are to each other, I’m sick of everyone asking for details, all the fangirls shipping us when I don’t even know if there is an ‘us’, I’m sick of missing how things were and not knowing and I just want to deal with this,” He gestured between them. “Without the cameras and world watching.”

Enjolras nodded his head slightly, “I get it.”

“I figured we could do it like we did before all this, just sing song lines, play some tunes and mess around, have a little fun.” Grantaire suggested, his eyes were a mess of emotions that Enjolras just couldn’t decipher. Though he knew what he, himself, felt was longing, longing for how things used to be, the longing for how he hoped for things to be – he was torn between the two.

“Sure.” Enjolras nodded and attempted a smile, though he knew it probably just looked like a grimace. He went and sat on the chair, opposite Grantaire. Enjolras took out his phone and set it on voice recorder, “So what ideas do you have for this song?”

“I think it should be fairly plain, backing wise, to focus on what we’re saying, to really get the message across.” Grantaire told him.

“Yeah.” Enjolras agreed, “I like the beat you’re tapping now, shall we work with that?”

“Can do.” Grantaire said, he kept tapping the rhythm.

Enjolras added in a few taps every now and then on the metal leg of his stool, he closed his eyes when he felt he knew what to sing and then he started singing: “Everybody wants to know, if we fucked on the bathroom sink.” His voice was wavering slightly, but he pressed on, “How your hands felt in my hair,” He smiled slightly, the icy dread in his veins easing only just, at the memory of the feeling, his brain then flitted to another of Musichetta asking if he’d been high, “If we were high on amphetamines.”

“Who asked if you were high?” Grantaire laughed.

“Musichetta.” Enjolras told him, as he opened his eyes “She came into my room screaming about how I better not be on drugs for doing what I did and then she and Joly gave me an hour lecture on why drugs are bad as if I didn’t know already.”

Grantaire smiled at their friends’ ridiculous ways and the exasperated expression in Enjolras’ eyes. “Wow.”

Enjolras made a huffing sound and closed his eyes again. Grantaire watched the concentration Enjolras’ face. This was the musical genius at work, the man he’d fallen for. He could see the emotions clear on Enjolras’ face, the confusion, the anger – he wanted to be there for him, but he didn’t know how they stood after the party.

“And everybody wants to hear how we chain smoked until three…” Enjolras sang, his voice sounding more sure as he began remembering the way they sat under the starry sky, talking into the early morning, Grantaire remember too and smiled sadly, “And how you laughed when you said my name, how you gripped my hips so mean.”

“We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night.” Enjolras opened his grey eyes then as the rhythm changed slightly, locking eyes with Grantaire. The brunet felt his heart ache at the expression in the blonde’s eyes, “But the ending is the same every damn time, no, no, no.”

“We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night.” They both sang, “but the ending is the same every damn time.”

“You remember.” Grantaire whispered.

“You do too.” Enjolras observed.

They stared at each other, not knowing what to say. Enjolras blinked back the excess water in his eyes.

He cleared his throat and spoke, “Then maybe a chorus.”

Grantaire just nodded.

“They think I’m insane, they think my lover is strange.” Enjolras sang alone now, anger coming into his voice, “But I don’t have to fucking tell them anything, anything. So I’m gonna write it all down and I’m gonna sing it on stage, but I don’t have to fucking tell you anything, anything.”

“That’s the beauty of a secret.” Grantaire sang.

“You know you’re supposed to keep it.”

“That’s the beauty of a secret, oh, oh, oh, that’s the beauty of a secret.” They sang together, “You know you’re supposed to keep it.”

Enjolras broke off alone then, “But I don’t have to fucking tell you anything, anything.”

“I like it so far.” Grantaire grinned.

“If you feel like taking over, feel free to.” Enjolras told him.

“I will.” Grantaire told him, he thought for a moment and then sang, “Everybody’s waiting up, to hear if I dare speak your name.”

Enjolras now watched Grantaire, the tension in his frame, the sadness in his eyes. He just wanted to hold him close, to ease the pain he had caused him, to whisper sweet nothings to him, to kiss him until he felt better, he wanted him plain and simple. He hated the weirdness between them, the

“And everybody wants to know ‘bout how it felt to hear you scream.” Grantaire sang, Enjolras blushed at the memory. “They know you walk like you’re a God, they can’t believe I made you weak.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to protest but Grantaire repeated Enjolras’ earlier part: “We wrote a story in the fog in the windows that night, but the ending is the same every damn time, no, no, no.”

Then Enjolras joined in, “We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night, but the ending is the same every damn time.”

“They think I’m insane, they think my lover is strange.” Grantaire sang, “But I don’t have to fucking tell them anything. And I’m going to write it all down and I’m going to sing it on stage, but I don’t have to fucking tell you anything, anything.”

“That’s the beauty of a secret.” Enjolras sang this part.

“You know you’re supposed to keep it.” Grantaire replied.

“That’s the beauty of a secret, oh, oh oh, that’s the beauty of a secret.” They sang together, “You know you’re supposed to keep it, but I don’t have to fucking tell you anything.”

“Shall we put in a bridge?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras nodded, their rhythm broke down partly here so they could add in the bridge.

“These days I can’t seem to get along with anyone.” Enjolras sang.

“Get by with anyone.” Grantaire echoed.

“These days I can’t seem to make this right.” Enjolras carried on.

“Well is this fine? Will it we be alright?” Grantaire asked.

They paused and shared a look before repeating the chorus together: “They think I’m insane, they think my lover is strange, but I don’t have to fucking tell them anything, and I’m going to write it all down and I’m gonna sing it on stage, but I don’t have to fucking tell you anything.”

“That’s the beauty of a secret.” Grantaire sang.

“You know you’re supposed to keep it.” Enjolras replied.

“That’s the beauty of a secret, oh, oh, oh, that’s the beauty of a secret.” They both sang, “You know you’re supposed to keep it, but I don’t have to fucking tell you anything.”

They stopped singing and looked at each other.

“It doesn’t have to end the same every damn time.” Enjolras said, quietly, “Not this time.”

“It doesn’t?” Grantaire quirked an eyebrow.

“No, not if you feel about me how I feel about you.” Enjolras told him, looking up through his curls at the brunet.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I can’t breathe without you. I like how easy our friendship was, how you’d wrestle to wake me up and how you were the highlight of my days, I like how you could make me laugh even if I was really mad. I like how we sang together and I just felt like that was everything. I like how you look, your crazy hair and smirk, I like how you laugh and how you make me feel, I like our jokes and how I can be myself around you. I need you ‘Taire because I really, really like you.” Enjolras told him, sincerity in his words, “I hate this awkwardness between us and I thought I could let you go, I thought I’d made peace with that because I knew it was only a matter of time before you found out and we had this conversation. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Grantaire looked at him properly then. Enjolras had never looked so un-Enjolras before, he was slouching in on himself which made him look smaller, more vulnerable, he looked more like the twenty year old he was than the confident man he appeared to be. In that moment he didn’t look like a God, he looked like a boy that thought he was going to get his heart broken.

“You won’t lose me, have no fear of that.” Grantaire told him, “I like you too. I like your laugh and your smile, you hair and your eyes, I like you when your grouchy and just waking up, I like that you make me want to change the world, I like your optimism and how I feel like anything is possible when I’m with you. I like that you put up with me and my cynism. I like how when I’m with you everything seems right because it’s you and I just like you.”

Relief physically flooded into Enjolras, as he looked at Grantaire. A smile played on hips lips now, his eyes seemed brighter and he looked less dejected, like he had a purpose. Grantaire felt himself relax a little, he hated acting weirdly around Enjolras.

“Why did you say you remembered that night?” Grantaire asked.

“Because I saw your face.” Enjolras said, “You looked horrified to have woken up with me let alone had sex with me. I panicked and that was the easiest most logical solution. Why did you pretend to forget?”

“Because of how you used your beauty to start your band, I thought you’d just want something from me, I thought it didn’t mean anything to you when it meant everything to me It was easier to go along with you and pretend it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“It meant everything to me too.” Enjolras said quietly, he moved slightly closer to Grantaire.

“We’ve been very stupid haven’t we?” Grantaire asked, leaning into Enjolras.

“I believe Éponine would congratulate us on how much we fucked up right about now.” Enjolras agreed.

“We got there in the end though.” Grantaire smiled, “Can I kiss you?”

“Do you need to ask?” Enjolras asked, their lips centimetres apart.

“Yes, after that hour long lecture on consent you gave me.” Grantaire told him.

“Just do it.” Enjolras smiled.

And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, thanks for reading that, i hope you enjoyed it!  
> I just really wanted to right a band au, not gonna lie.
> 
> Enjolras sang Trouble by Halsey at their shared gig.  
> Grantaire's song was What Kind Of Man by Florence And The Machine  
> The song they 'wrote' together was Strange Love by Halsey.  
> Cosette was modeled a lot on Halsey.  
> The title was a mash up of two of the songs mentioned above ^
> 
> The name 'The Pretty Barricaders' was inspired by 'The Pretty Reckless' though they had no real link to the band.  
> I have lots of tweets for this that I made but no clue how to add them and they're essential to the piece. I can't understand any of the how to add images articles on this website - to put my point across I manage to fail ICT three times, so that shows my skill... If anyone can help me that would be appreciated so please can you help me add them?
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks.


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